Something Wicked This Way Comes
by GateKeeper Oni
Summary: As the population of FREAK vampires increases all around England, Integra finds herself growing more and more busy. But when a strange man appeares she finds that fate may have a plan in store. But this man may prove more trouble than he's worth.
1. Dead Men Walk

It was freezing. That was his first thought as he began to awaken. To anyone else it would only a slight chill but to him it was unbearably cold. Then again where he just come from was beyond warm, red flames licked at his skin only seconds before.

He lifted himself up from the steel that made up the autopsy table top. His body left heavy, his head pounding in time with his heart. He looked down at his naked body, his skin pale and covered in filth. He vaguely remembered, to him, what happened all those years ago. He looked at his hand, his palms covered in dried mud. He clenched them as he remembered her. 'She will pay.' He thought.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him from his reminiscing. Quickly he jumped from the table and hide behind a tall filing cabinet. A man and woman walked into the room closing followed by another man who didn't wear the same clothing as the pair before him. They seemed too focused on their conversation they didn't notice the body that was supposed to be on the table run from behind the cabinets and through the door, disappearing around a corner.

'I'll make you pay for what you did Sara, even if I have to die again to do it.' He thought as he ran through the familiar streets, his body exposed to the night air.


	2. Sins Of A Past Love

The house stood empty and foreboding, the shattered windows staring out into the street like the empty sockets of a skull. Yellow crime seen tape blocked the entrance in a large X pattern as the door lay inside, torn from its hinges. He looked at the house with an intense hate filled glare. He remembered it well, every chipped brick that covered the lower section of the front, every lily that rested in the garden, everything. He hated this place, his own home. Because of her. She tainted this place where he had once laughed and lived, until she deceived and lied her way into his heart and home.

He tore the crime scene tape from the doorway, his bare feet stepping on the fallen door, who's only crime was doing its job (as well as being a pain in the ass to install). He looked around the mangled furniture and walls of what once was the living room, shards of the large picture window now lying scattered along the floor. He remembered many parties with friends and family being held in the room, all great and joyful times spent talking and drinking while the radio played the popular songs of artist he didn't like. He almost smiled at the memories, _almost._

He continued through the destroyed building seeing every room was pretty much the same, furniture destroyed as red stains covered nearly everything in sight. The entire house reeked of blood, every room smelled of death and destruction. Any normal person would have emptied the contents of their stomach at the smell but he stood silent, inhaling it with every breath not phased in the least. Any normal human would have at least felt disgusted, but he wasn't a normal human anymore. Hell he wasn't even sure if he was still _human_.

He entered what had once been his place of rest, his sanctuary. The once white sheets on the bed were now stained maroon from the blood that had been allowed to seep in and dry. The mirror above the dresser was smashed, sharp shards lying on the top of the dresser like some kind of twisted decoration. His glare intensified as he looked around the room. He looked at the crumpled sheets remembering the smell as they held him down and tried to drain him of his blood. But he fought back, _and oh did he fight! _

Their flesh was cold and lifeless but that didn't stop him from reaching under his pillow and pulling forth his hidden security blanket, a Smith and Wesson combat knife. Very few knew he hid it there, even she didn't know, but she found out in a very _surprising_ way as he drove it into the heart of one of her companions. He remembered the smelled of the beast's blood and the sound of his cry in pain stopping as he died. But it was for not, he was drained completely of his life essence, it either disappearing into their eager gullets or onto the sheets of his bed.

'She will pay, her and her friends. Every single one of them will fall forever into the hellhole she sent me to.' He thought to himself his hands shaking from the rage.

He tore his mind from the memories. All they did is remind him why he came back, for her. He walked over to his closet and tore open the doors in an enraged huff. He looked around at its contents seeing what he could wear. He smiled at what he found.


	3. Oh, Brother What Are Thou?

The black and white body of the vehicle shined lightly under the bright, full moon. It slowly crept down the street at its leisurely pace. It slowly prowled tell it stopped in front of what supposed to be an empty building that was only a few hours before had a scene of ghoulish slaughter. Even from the dark space inside the police car the driver could see the yellow crime scene tape that had once blocked the door now flapped in a small night time breeze. The driver parked the car in front of the house, blocking the driveway. The police officer exited from the cruiser and pulled out her pistol. She spoke into her radio for a few seconds before entering the crime scene.

The smell of death and blood made her stomach do flips inside her and her mind to imagine the horrors that had happened only three hours before. She quickly shook it off before stepping deeper into this little taste of hell. The pictures that had once been hanging on the wall were now smashed into oblivion on the carpeted floor. The sound of running water from the floor above her told her where to search.

She quietly ascended the stairs to the source of the noise, the upstairs bathroom. She slowly opened the door and brought her pistol to bear, pointing it towards the shower curtain. "Step out of the shower with your hands where I can see them. You're under arrest for trespassing in an open crime scene." She said firmly to whatever was behind the curtain.

A metallic squeak sounded as the water turn off. A hand gently, and calmly, opened the curtain revealing the figure to her. "Hello Joel." He said stepping out of the shower. She felt her heart beat faster at the sight of him, his skin glistening from the small layer of water covering him, his wet hair shining softly under the bright lights of the 40 watt bulbs.

"Michael, you're dead. Y-you're d-dead." Joel stammered as she slowly stepped away from him, still aiming her pistol at his chest. Before she could say anymore the world around her blurred before disappearing into darkness. Michael looked down at her collapsed form; thoughts could be seen racing behind his eyes. He shook his head with a small grin.

"Joel you always were easy to startle." He said lifting her up bridal style. He carried her off and placed her on what was left of his sofa. He smiled at her face before going off to dry off, dress and get some _equipment_.


	4. The Silence

The sounds of scrubbing and of metal sliding against itself were the first thing Jolene, called Joel by her friends, heard as she returned from the land of sleep. Ever so slowly she rose into a sitting position holding her pounding head. "You fainted. Hit your head pretty good when you fell." A familiar voice said from inside the kitchen. Her eyes widened as she remembered the voice. Slowly she picked herself up to her feet and walked around the corner to see a figure in a long black coat sitting at the kitchen counter cleaning a shotgun diligently.

"Michael?" she asked her voice shaking slightly. The figure continued cleaning the weapon, removing the barrel and cleaning the chamber with an oiled rag. "Michael is that you?" she asked again taking a step towards him. She reached out to grab his shoulder.

"I'm fine Joel. Just busy." He finally replied not taking his attention away from the gun in his hand. She jumped at the sudden appearance of his deep, masculine voice. She dropped her hand back to her side before stepping around the counter to get a better look at him. His face was the same as the last time she saw it, other than being a little redder like he had gotten a sun burn. His face was handsome and kind while still holding a dangerous light about it. He was cleanly shaven other than his mustache and goatee that were perfectly trimmed and kept.

"Are you going to say something or just stare at me?" Michael asked his voice sharp with annoyance. He never liked being stared at, even if it was for his good looks.

"Michael what happened to you? I-I mean you're supposed to be dead." She said to him nervously. For the first time that night Michael looked into her eyes, a hellish flame burning bright within them. In them she saw hundreds of screaming men and women in fields of fire and violence beyond decryption; she swore she could even smell the burning flesh. It scared her more than anything she could remember.

"I am dead Joel. I'm just a dead man on leave." He stated as he was talking to a child. Something about those words sent a bitter chill down her spine; it was as if someone had stepped over her grave. "I died and was judged for every deed, good or bad, I've ever done." He said to her as if he was speaking of the weather.

"Where'd you go? Where were you sent?" Joel asked fearing the answer.

He looked at her the fire in his eyes seemed to grow brighter and more intense. "Guess." He said venomously with a hiss. He returned to cleaning the shotgun that was still in his hands, working more furiously on removing a small bit of rust. The house was unnaturally quiet for a long time, the only noise coming for Michaels cleaning.

Joel looked down at the arsenal he had gathered from the many hidden gun lockers hidden around his home. There was his AR-15 along with his S&W 500 and two Peacemakers. Then there was the Remington 870 he was currently working on.

"What are doing with all these guns Michael?" she asked him, getting no response in return. "Michael what are you planning to do with all these guns?" she asked more firmly, again getting no response. "Michael!" she yelled at him.

He was out of his chair over the counter and on top of her his left hand gripping her throat tightly before she could even blink. His grip was strong as steel but also burned like an intense fire. His eyes seemed to glow with a hellish light in glee of seeing slowly turn blue. "Michael. . ." she choked out as she felt her brain begin to become oxygen starved.

Just before the darkness of unconsciousness overtook her his grip disappeared as quickly it had begun. She sputtered and coughed as she crawled away from him. She looked up as saw he was still seated in his seat hold the shotgun in one hand and the oil rag in the other.

"What the fuck was that?!" she shouted at him, her voice filled with anger and hidden fear.

"I intend to go hunting." He said ignoring the question.

"Hunting for what?" Joel replied still angry.

"A back stabbing bitch." He replied sharply while he reassembled the shotgun, punctuating his sentence with the sound of pumping the large firearm.

Her eyes widened in terror at his words. _'He was going to go after Sara?'_ She sat on the grime and dry blood covered floor looking up at him in surprise. "You're gonna go after her?" she asked him soberly. He gave an almost overjoyed 'yep' to answer her. "Michael you can't do that, you'll be thrown in prison."

"You can't imprison a dead man." He stated manner-of –factly as he gathered the many guns on the counter. He put the handguns in their appropriate holsters, the peacemakers on both sides of his hips while the 500 went in a right pit holster. He then hung the AR behind his back from his shoulder and carried the shotgun, heading towards the front door.

"Michael stop!" Joel shouted running after him. She reached for her service pistol to find its holster empty. With no other choose she stepped in front of him blocking his path with her body. "Michael I can't let you do that!" she told him firmly. "If you want to leave this house you're going to have to go through m…" she began. As she was talking Michael had open his left hand and turned it so his palm was facing her. There was a strange glow coming from it.

She looked down at his hand and saw a symbol that seemed to be tattooed into his palm, glowing in a strange upsetting red glow. She looked closer at it and saw that it was swirling strangely as it glowed making it hard to make out. Her eyes widened in terror as it solidified. Her body shook in fear as she crumbled to her knees, tears rolling down her face as she wet herself all the while muttering 'Stop please stop' over and over again just above a whisper.

He closed his hand into a fist. Joel fell into a crying ball hugging her legs tight against her chest. "I'm sorry Joel but I can't let you stand in my way." He said as he stepped up to the door opening it to discover several police cars parked in front of his house. He looked back down at her and said, "Guess you remembered to call for backup this time sis." With that he stepped out of the building into the sights of the police standing in cover behind their cars and driver doors.

"Attention gunman! Throw down your weapons or we will open fire!" one of them said through a blow horn.

Michael smiled at the threat with a disturbing, maniacal smile. "For wicked deeds meet wicked ends, no mercy for the damned." He said quietly with a strange laugh, just loud enough for the few closer policemen to hear. He raised his left hand toward the group of armed officers his palm open completely. Streaks of red light flew towards the group of vehicles and men. For a while nothing happened they all sat quietly looking around themselves to try and find what had happened.


	5. And The Storm

A squad car exploded in a ball of flame flipping the vehicle onto its side, scattering the grouped together police force. Many of the officers swore and cussed as they found articles of clothing set ablaze by the blast or their firearms lying out of reach for the moment. Michael smiled dementedly at the sight of such chaos and the sound of screams. "Dies iræ! dies illa, solvet sæclum in favilla, teste David cum Sibylla!" He shouted into the nighttime sky, arms outstretched as if inviting the gods above to strike him down, the police looked at him fearful, though they didn't know what he had said the message was clear. They were nothing but mere ants under his boot to him.

"Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus!" He sang out to his fear struck audience making gestures in the air with his hands as if he were conducting an invisible symphony. "Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus!" he continued his voice seemly roaring in the quiet nighttime even thought he spoke softly and quietly. Suddenly he raised his arms high above his head like a mad preacher addressing the conjugation shouting to the frightened police, "And thus the heavens fell!"

As soon as the words left his lips another of the black and white cars was launched high into the air as its gas tank exploded violently. From the flames of the explosion came three small twig like beings ablaze with a hellish fire. They raced forward through the crowd of sprawling men in blue towards the other cars, a twisted childish laugh ushering from them. The few of the police officers who could still force their bodies to move did, running as far as they could as fast as they could from the site, all others were consumed by flames as the remaining squad cars erupted into balls of ignited gasoline. Those who had ran quickly grabbed what weapons they could find opening fire at the giggling aflame stickmen.

Over the crackling of the car fires and the bangs of gunfire a sadistic laugh roared as its owner stood at his doorstep, having not moved since the beginning of this demonic destruction and hellish glee. Michael looked up at the sky giving one last chorus of laughter as his ungodly minions devoured what was left of the law enforcers in flames.

Once his laughter had ceased he looked at the scorched skeletons of both man and machine alike with a satisfied look, slightly proud of the horrors he had done to his fellow men. He silently walked to his garage door and lifted it open with a grunt. Moments later a mechanical roar ushered forth from the dark space before a black chopper motorcycle shot into the night. It raced down the empty street as if the devil himself was on its tail, the three stickmen still ablaze running beside him. He disappeared into the cold Nevadan night leaving the still smoking corpses and quivering sister at the twice damned house. Only one thought echoing through the riders mind, 'I'm coming Sara. Get ready for me, for something wicked that way comes.'


End file.
